Beige to Beige
by Oh-Woffie
Summary: His face seemed wet. There must be a leak somewhere in the ceiling. There must be; it couldn't be him. Kurt Hummel did not cry in public. Hell, as far as anyone knew, Kurt Hummel did not cry.
1. Chapter 1

The news had come so suddenly that at first he had thought it to be some sort of cruel, humorless joke. The whitewashed walls of Ms. Pillsbury's room suddenly seemed too dull, too cold and too cramped for his liking. No, thinking of it now this wasn't even the room he had sat in when she had spoken to him about his 'substance abuse problem'. That room had been full of hope that his slight lapse in judgement could make him a stronger person in the end. This wasn't the same room, he didn't feel that sense of comfort here. He must have heard wrong.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry."

Yes, he hadn't heard her properly. The quiver in her voice was merely the result of the echo against the walls; the tears in her eyes were only a trick of the light. This wasn't happening.

"You have no reason to be sorry," he started, then stalled. Though Kurt didn't know what Ms. Pillsbury had been apologizing for he knew she couldn't have done anything wrong. And God, he needed her to stop looking at him like that. Kurt had lived a lifetime of seeing that look. He wanted it to go away.

But the look wasn't going away. Ms. Pillsbury wasn't going away, and the room surrounding him definitely wasn't going anywhere. If anything it seemed to be shrinking with each passing moment. He needed out.

"Kurt, honey-" The chair's screeching legs cut her off as they slid forcefully across the linoleum flooring and into the window behind Kurt. The noise beat through his ears like a base drum but the sound hardly registered. Outside a few students had turned to stare. One of them, he noticed, was in the midst of adjusting the settings on his camera phone. Kurt chuckled internally. Funny how not one had ever stopped to look during any of his morning dumpster dives, but the moment he shows signs of breaking down they all came along with cell phones out to watch the ride.

Was that what this was? A breakdown? Impossible. Kurt Hummel did not break down. Ever. And if for some chance he did, it certainly wouldn't be in public. The thought of everything just seemed too overwhelming, leading him to realize that his internal chuckle had transformed into a quiet, maniacal laughter. Or was he crying?

"Sit down, please Kurt? Sit down and we'll wait for someone to come get you, okay?" How long had she been talking? The look was still in her eyes, but it didn't seem to matter as much anymore. The room was too small. The air was too heavy. He couldn't breathe.

"I'm sorry Ms. Pillsbury, but regrettably I must be leaving now. I have classes to attend, as you very well know." Kurt raised his chin so that he was looking down at her. His face seemed wet. There must be a leak somewhere in the ceiling. There must be; it couldn't be him. Kurt Hummel did not cry in public. Hell, as far as anyone knew, Kurt Hummel did not cry.

Against her feeble protests Kurt turned on his heels to exit her office, thinking all the way that a door had never seemed to be so far away before in his life.

Outside her room the air seemed lighter and he could breathe again. A draft was coming from somewhere, the coldness of it all stabbed at his lungs but he could breathe. Standing a moment he inhaled deeply, ignoring the pain that settled deep within his chest. He could breathe. Nothing else mattered as long as he could breathe.

Correction. Nothing mattered as long as he could breathe, and as long as people stopped closing in on his space. Before him stood fifteen or so individuals with apparently nothing better to do that watch him like hungry lions watching a gazelle that had separated from its herd.

"What are you staring at," he snapped. Another few students halted to watch. What was going on? "Go on you ignorant buffoons. GO!" Kurt lunged falsely in the direction of the masses, but they were not deterred. "What is the matter with all of you? There's nothing to see here, move along. Get out, NOW!" He briefly felt the shift from Regular-Kurt to Bitch-Kurt, but he was beyond caring. Again the halls felt smaller, and the number of people kept growing. He couldn't do this. They needed to go away.

"I said GET THE FUCK OUT!" He screeched as he shoved the nearest teen away from him. The herd took a few steps away, but it wasn't enough. "MOVE!" More students were shoved into each other as they fell, but not one turned to leave.

"Kurt, stop!" He heard it but he didn't care. He felt the people around him getting closer but he couldn't see. Damn that leak must be strong.

"Oh Will thank goodness you're here."

"Alright everyone back to class now, all of you."

There was shuffling. The panic began to subside. Kurt tried to breathe again, but it hurt so much.

"I can't breathe," he whispered. Though he still couldn't see he knew Mr. Schuester was there. On any other occasion he would have felt annoyed with the teacher for trying to fight his battles for him when he was so oblivious to the bullying he faced every day, but today he didn't want to feel.

"It's okay Kurt. Just try. In and out. Just in and out." Any other day this would have been met with a crude remark. Today those words were the only thing reminding him how to live. He was grateful for it.

"It hurts, oh God, it hurts."

"I know, Kurt. I'm so sorry."

Emma looked at Will who was cradling the boy in his arms. The moment Will had touched him Kurt had collapsed into a heap on the floor. Meeting his eyes she saw that he looked as lost as she felt. In all her years of counselling students this was the first time she had felt so completely lost.

"Is there anyone we can call?" Will asked, his eyes pleading with her to say yes.

"No." Her voice cracked as she looked at Kurt. "His dad was all he had."


	2. Chapter 2

When Carol Hudson had gotten the call, she hadn't known what to do. It was the same devastating black hole emotion taking over her body that she had felt when she had received the news of her husband years ago. But Burt hadn't been the father of her first born child, and Kurt was far from the son she already had. It didn't matter though. In the short time she had known them, Carole had fallen in love with Burt, and had grown to accept and (almost) love Kurt as the other child she had always hoped to have. In her mind they were the perfect jigsaw family, fitting together perfectly with all their mismatched parts. This wasn't the case anymore.

When the hospital told her that they hadn't known who else to contact she had dropped the phone and cried. This wasn't happening again. Once in a life was enough, but twice? Carole had never believed herself to be a cursed woman, but the odds seemed to be stacked against her.

"Ms. Hudson," the man on the phone started, "Mr. Hummel is in serious condition. He's showing very few signs of brain activity."

"But he's still alive?" The man on the phone sighed.

"Yes, but there are complications. If you could come in -"

"He'll be okay though, right?" Carole's voice cracked and she knew she wouldn't be able to speak for much longer.

"Ms. Hudson, I would prefer to discuss this with you in person. Is there a time you can come in to discuss options?" There was a silence as Carole tried to keep what was left of her composure intact.

"I'm… I'm on my way."

She slammed the phone against the receiver and hurriedly scrambled throughout the house looking for her purse, keys, anything. As fast as she hurried everything seemed to be a blur. Reaching for her keys, her arm extended too far and they slid off the surface of the counter and onto the cheap laminate floor. Grabbing the first pair of shoes she saw, she slid them on too quickly to realize that they were on the opposite feet. The frustration started to build within her as she corrected her mistake, only to realize that heels were too impractical to wear to a hospital.

It almost felt that, though her heart wanted to be with him and see that he was okay, the rest of her subconsciously wanted to delay the inevitability of knowing that he would never be the same. They would never be the same.

Just one more minute, just another few seconds to pretend that this isn't happening. Just one more shaky mistake, just one more wrong turn and one more red light to keep her from knowing. This wasn't happening. Not to her. Not to her family. Not to Ku-

Shit.

Kurt.

Her tires screeched as she pulled a quick U-turn in the street she was on, pausing only briefly to think how lucky she had been that there was little traffic mid-morning in Lima. A car accident was not what she needed right now (though her subconscious reasoned that it would be so much easier to deal with the pain if she wasn't truly there for it). No, right now she needed to get Kurt. Burt was his father, and Kurt deserved to know what was going on and to be there for him no matter what would happen (and she didn't want to be alone again). She just needed to get to him first, then everything would be fine.

They would make this fine.


	3. Chapter 3

*****The last one was really short, and it took me forever to update. I felt bad, so here you go. It's like a little, 'I'm sorry' for you. Ps, all reviews are welcome. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, as is plain old criticism, as long as it isn't just written to make me sad. **

**Again, my apologies.**

"What about Carole Hudson, Finn's mom?" Kurt clearly wasn't listening to them anymore, and Will had decided that it couldn't do any more harm to talk about him as if he weren't there.

"I gave the hospital her cell number, so I'm assuming they called to let her know what's going on. They said that they tried calling the Hummel house and no one answered."

"Her and Finn don't live there anymore."

"I thought you said that -"

"Yeah, they were, but there was an argument between Finn and Kurt or Burt and the Hudson's moved out." Emma wanted to ask what had happened between them, but the sight of Kurt (now silently) resting his head against Will's body, shaking softly while muffling his quiet sobs was enough to tell her that now wasn't the time for gossip. She wondered if Will knew how flattering it was that his students had trusted him enough to tell him about things like that in their lives.

"Do you know what happened to Burt," Will asked. Emma shook her head.

"I told Kurt everything they told me. There was an accident in the shop, something about a jack breaking, and Mr. Hummel ended up unconscious. They haven't been able to wake him up yet, but Kurt deserves to know what's happening."

Will wrapped his arms around the small boy who was still seemingly unaware of his present surroundings. It wasn't fair that he would have to face this, Will just hoped that the fight between Kurt and Finn hadn't been too severe (though moving out would seem to qualify as 'not just another misunderstanding'). He couldn't do this alone. It wouldn't be fair.

"Kurt!"

Will and Emma looked at each other.

"I think that's Ms. Hudson," Will was sure of it. Emma nodded quickly. "I'll go page Finn, he should probably go with them." She stood up from the ground and brushed herself off as quickly as she could before turning to meet Carole Hudson. Will sighed as Kurt gripped him tighter.

No, it wasn't fair. Not at all.

I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you, but even if he does wake up, he won't be the same person you knew before."

"So he's retarded."

"Finn!"

"What? It's what he's saying."

"Finn, stop it now. I will not hear you speaking like that again, do you hear me?" Finn let out a frustrated sigh. Yes, he heard her. No, it didn't make him wrong. For once Finn understood what someone was saying when no one else did. He couldn't let that go.

"But it's true. If he wakes up, who's to say he won't be a vegetable or something. Like, not literally, but mentally and all that stuff."

"Finn Hudson, stop. Kurt does not need to hear you speaking about his father like that right now." Carole's voice came out more harshly than she had anticipated. She hoped Finn would get the message, but he showed no signs of letting down.

"Kurt's not even listening to us, he hasn't said a thing since we got in the car. Don't blame your emotions on him. You just want me to say that everything's going to be okay, but it's not. And really, you think it's fair to anyone to say, 'oh, he'll be fine in no time' when the doctor right here is telling us that _if _he wakes up we'll be lucky if he can understand _anything_? Personally, I don't think lies are what any of us need right now. I'm just stating reality."

"What's wrong with hoping, Finn? Why can't you just believe that maybe, just maybe things don't always turn out for the worse. Maybe -"

"Hi, Daddy." Kurt's soft voice broke through the hostile air, breaking Carole's resolve to be strong and Finn's desire to prove his point. True to what Finn had said, Kurt hadn't uttered a sound since Mr. Schuester had shaken him off his body and into Carole's beat up pickup truck. He had barely paid attention to anything but the scenery outside the car, and had failed to acknowledge a single word from any of the nursing staff. All he could see now was his Dad. His strong, perfectly imperfect Dad.

A small smile shone on Kurt's face, almost as if it had been carefully rehearsed, taken years to perfect but only moments to slip into. It was unnervingly natural. This was the face he had worn for his mother; Carole was almost sure of it. Kurt's small frame gently eased itself beside the still figure of his father's, shifting slowly until they both looked comfortable. Burt's large hand was grasped by Kurt's small delicate one, his thumb gently traced the outline of his palm while his eyes watched the movement calmly.

"I think you should try to wake up soon, okay? The doctor's said that the sooner you get up the more likely you'll be okay. I need you to do that for me if you can, alright? Besides, I saw this opening sign for some new steakhouse on the drive down here, and I think I've dieted enough to allow for one day of grease filled bliss. There was that one thing you wanted me to try last time, do you remember? It was-"

Carole felt herself being led from the room by her son. Looking up at him, Finn silently jerked his head towards the door. He was right, they shouldn't be here. Kurt didn't need them looming over him like that, he had done this too many times before with his own mother that right now, he needed to be alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this is so late...life, eh? I have more written so it won't take a month this time. And it will be longer. I promise.**

Finn stood silently with his mother cradled in his arms, feeling her muffled sobs through his t-shirt while the next room over Kurt's light voice drifted through the air.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

When Finn's mother had walked in on him singing to the sonogram on his computer monitor he had broken down completely. But everything had been alright. His mother had sat him down where they were, looking him directly in the eyes when she spoke._"Quinn's pregnant. You're the father. You need to step up and do whatever it takes to be there for her, understand?"_

And it had worked. She had helped him put everything into perspective, had motivated him to think about what he could be doing rather than crying about mistakes already made. But wasn't that what he had tried to do? To put everything into perspective; stating the obvious because _'sometimes, Finn, it needs to be said. Sometimes the obvious isn't so obvious and admitting what's happened is a step all its own'._ It had made so much sense before, but now, holding his crying mother in his arms unable to fix it, to make the pain go away, he was lost. So completely lost.

"Oh Finn. Oh, Burt…" She sniffled, looking up at him. "Baby, what are we going to do?" Her eyes pleaded with his as if they honestly believed he could have an answer. Opening his mouth only air escaped. _"Mom…"_

With every second he saw her composure fading._"Mom, it's going to be okay, I know it is."_

Choked sobs escaped Carole's lips as Finn's mouth kept moving, but his voice was lost somewhere between the pit of his stomach and the pain in his heart.

"_We're going to get through this, I know we are. Burt's a Hummel - they're strong, believe me. He's going to pull through this. It's not going to be like last time, like with dad…"_

Her heart was breaking again before his eyes as he stood doing everything he could, which was nothing at all. Finn's arms started to hurt and he wondered briefly how long he had been holding his mother up instead of just holding her. Carole had always been strong, she had to be. She had gotten them both this far on her own, always taking care of her son, doing whatever it took. Now when she needed someone to support her, he couldn't man up and do it. How the hell could he have ever thought he was capable of being a father? The weight of everything fell on him at once and his legs began to shake. Slowly he lowered both of them to the ground but he doubted she noticed.

"_You're not alone this time, mom," he wanted to say, but all that came out was a quiet, uncertain,_

"_Mom?"_

"_Baby?" She looked back up at him with hopeful eyes, shouldn't the words be coming to him by now?_

"_Mom…" He just held her tighter. It was all he could do._


	5. Chapter 5  PS I'm So Sorry

**This is EMBARASSING to say the least. No excuses, just shame. Complete shame. I an actual plot for this, complete with ending, I just need to sit down and write it. If anyone's still interested in reading this I sincerely apologize and thank you. If not, I blame no one. I'm getting this done out of complete and utter embarrassment. Wow. Just…wow. (PS feel free to send any and all shame vibes my way in any form you feel appropriate. Frown at your computer, send me a :( message. I accept all forms of shame, so long as it's shameful).**

**R-r-r-recap! : Burt's in a coma! Kurt is devastated! Carole is devastated! Finn is confused!**

* * *

Kurt stood tall as he stared at his reflection in the floor length mirror. There had been little thought to what he had put on that morning, but regardless, he was Kurt Hummel. Even preoccupied by tragedy, he looked amazing. Not that he noticed of course, but subconsciously his mind had decided that he did not want the sympathy of his peers. Few of them cared enough to so much as glance his way on a daily basis, so why give them the privilege of offering sympathy; to feel that they were helping, or had at least done their part so that they could say that they had offered their assistance in his time of need. Subconsciously, Kurt Hummel did not want sympathy. Consciously, Kurt Hummel was trying to remember the order of his classes that day so that maybe he could sneak out before lunch or at the end of the day and visit his father - just in case there had been any change in his condition.

With a sigh he continued his newly created morning routine of trying to remember to eat, to pack his bag with the correct books, and to leave early enough to walk to school - he still couldn't look in the direction of the garage, he definitely was not going in to retrieve his baby. She would understand.

* * *

As it turned out, Kurt's subconscious had nothing to worry about. No one seemed to know what had happened to his father - on the contrary in fact.

"Hey queer eye," Karofsky called out as he roughly shoulder checked Kurt into the row of lockers he had been standing in front of. Had he enough energy to care, Kurt might have been thankful that he had temporarily forgotten his combination (or that his hands were trembling too violently for him to even attempt to turn the dial), saving him from falling into the corner or knocking his books and papers to the floor. As it were, Kurt barely registered the hit, and it took both Finn and Puck hoisting him to his feet to realize that he had fallen at all.

"Fucking prick," Puck murmured, glaring at Karofsky's retreating form.

"Leave him alone." Puck's glare morphed into confusion as he turned to face Kurt, while Finn's blank stare remained directed at Kurt.

"Dude, the fuck you sayin'? That asshat just came out of East Jesus nowhere and body slammed you. If this were any professional sport on the entire freakin' continent that'd be a foul – and those dudes get paid to hit. You seriously want me to just leave that alone?" A few students paused momentarily to openly gawk at Puck's animated speech, but continued on quickly for fear that they would be on the receiving end of a spine chilling glare – or worse.

Kurt wasn't sure what had compelled him to speak out the first time, but as he spoke again he knew that somewhere he felt this. Somewhere in his mind, he believed his words to be true. Raising his head, Kurt's eyes connected with Puck's.

"It's not like you cared about any of this before. Conscious or not, _he_ at least has the decency to remain consistent in his treatment of me. I would appreciate if you all would do the same."

Puck took a step back, obviously unprepared for the backlash he had just experienced. Kurt attempted to raise his chin in a sign of superior arrogance that only days before would have solidified his "Holier-Than-Thou" attitude. Again he refused to acknowledge how his whole body began to shake harder, how he looked so desperate not to cry. In his mind he stormed off in a rage of self-righteousness, his hand cold remembering the feel of his father's lifeless hand in his and not from brushing slowly against the row of lockers that he leaned heavily on for support as he stumbled away.

Puck stared as the boy shrank and faded away into the crowded hallway.

"Dude, was it really always that bad? Did we seriously not notice?"

Finn's eyes never left Kurt's receding figure.

"Don't be an idiot, Puck," he whispered softly, "we always knew."


	6. Chapter 6

Between the nurses in the hospital there had always been a running joke of how sick days were more for appearances than usage. Whether you were too sick to come in to work or not, you would always end up in the same place. Carole had never had to use a sick day – nor had she ever wanted to. It was just her and Finn, and though at times she felt as though she was missing out on seeing her baby boy transform into the man he was becoming she knew that being sick, taking a break from work and life no matter how stressful, wouldn't pay for her son's college tuition. She could see in his eyes every time the subject was brought up how his eyes would haze over, his look becoming distant. He had given up on his future, but Carole had always believed.

Since he was a boy Carole had been saving. Every bonus she had received, change from the grocery store, hell – every penny she found at the bus stop. It had all been carefully stowed away in a jar underneath her bed. As obvious as it was Finn would never look there. When he was young he would only come running to her bed to escape the monsters from underneath it. With each flying leap she was assured that the possibility of danger frightened him too much to explore what truly lay beneath the creaking springs. As he grew older Finn forgot the monsters and stopped running to her altogether.

The jar had always been safe. With only pennies, dimes and the occasional bill Carole deemed it too large of a hassle for anyone to steal if they ever broke in. Eventually the one jar became two, and two became five. With each passing month she would look at the jars and dream of the future her son would have. Finn would never see it until graduation day. She would smile at him and tell him that when she had told him _no, we can't afford to go out for dinner,_ or, _no_, _we can't afford a new bike_, she had done it in his best interest. The money they saved from eating out, from buying used, it had all gone into the jars. They would take them to the bank together and see if her hard earned work had paid off.

No matter what, it had been a symbol of her son's future. It was a way of providing for her boy and keeping him secure in his education. But that was when she had never taken a sick day.

She understood the medical jargon and the looks the doctors gave each other. She understood every beep of a machine and every click of a pen. She understood, but she didn't _understand_. How could she. Her whole life she had worked and lived for her boy and now she had three. Her baby, her love, and the boy she wished she could understand. The jars were supposed to be for Finn. They were never meant to be used as a back-up plan for when sick days ran out (which she knew they would). They were never supposed to be thought of when people crowded her from all sides talking about final wills, long term care, foster homes, life insurance policies – any of it.

She glanced up. The lawyer was still talking but it was like her mind was elsewhere, leaving her head empty like a shell. Just echoing the sound of the ocean through her ears. The jars were one thing in her life she had never worried about. But now amidst all her worries and the weight of the world, she couldn't stop picturing those jars sitting under her bed full of coins, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for the end.


End file.
